


The Dewey Decimal of Us

by megzseattle



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aromantic, Aromantic Aziraphale (Good Omens), Aromantic Crowley (Good Omens), Asexual Aziraphale (Good Omens), Asexual Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Asexual Crowley (Good Omens), Gen, M/M, Queerplatonic Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Queerplatonic Relationships, valentines day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 03:27:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29411931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megzseattle/pseuds/megzseattle
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale decide to celebrate a Valentines Day, for the first time.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 34
Kudos: 68





	The Dewey Decimal of Us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zeckarin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeckarin/gifts).



> For Zeck and my daughter, who have taught me many many things.

“You know what tomorrow is, right?” Aziraphale said, setting his tea carefully on his desk.

Crowley looked up from his phone. “Wha? Sunday, I think.”

Aziraphale tutted. “It’s Valentines Day. Just thought I’d warn you since, you know –”

“Since I hate it so much?” Crowley grumbled. “All those cutesy little naked cherubs flying around with their little bows and arrow tipped with hearts and giggling adorably? If humans ever met a real cherub, they would wet their collective pants. And believe me, their arrows would not be topped with hearts. More like flame. Or grenades. Or, or --”

He sputtered to a stop, unable to think of anything bad enough.

Aziraphale made sympathetic noises. “Going to sleep through it again this year?” he said crisply. “Leave me alone to deal with all of the –” he pulled a face— “ _romance_?”

Crowley raised an eyebrow. “Well, I assumed you’d just be nose down in a book all evening.” _Like normal,_ he did not add. They both knew it was there, unsaid.

“I suppose that would be my default,” Aziraphale said thoughtfully. “But I was thinking perhaps we could – what do the kids say? Hang out? Tomorrow night, rather. Instead of hiding ourselves away every year.”

“ _Hang out_?” Crowley sat up and peered at Aziraphale in concern. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I am quite fine!” Aziraphale said crossly, standing up and straightening his cuffs fussily. “I was merely suggesting we get some takeaway and watch a movie instead of avoiding the entire planet for twenty-four hours. Heaven forbid. Consider the offer rescinded.”

He stomped away to the kitchen, teacup in hand, and clattered about making a fresh pot.

Crowley stared after him. What on earth? Was Aziraphale saying he wanted to celebrate Valentines with him? He would be the first to admit that Aziraphale occupied an incredibly special place in his life – closer than friends, closer than family, closer than many lovers. But it wasn’t LOVE love. He just wasn’t wired that way. He’d never felt even the slightest spark of sexual or romantic attraction – not to anyone.

He’d thought Aziraphale was the same, although they’d never discussed it. But six millennia of time in the world while never seeing the angel form a romantic attachment had to mean something, didn’t it? Had he misunderstood?

Aziraphale came back with a freshened cup and gave Crowley a tight smile before he sat down at his desk.

“Angel?” Crowley said. “I can stay awake tomorrow.”

Aziraphale shrugged. “No need my dear, it was just a thought.”

“No, it sounds fun,” Crowley said, placatingly. “You pick the food, I’ll pick the movie?”

“Hrm,” Aziraphale said. “Sushi, and lots of it.” He thought further. “And no horror.”

“Deal.”

\--

Aziraphale puttered around the next afternoon tidying the flat over the shop as best he could – more an exercise in moving piles of books and papers from one surface to another, if he was honest with himself, which he tried not to be when it came to cleaning. Particularly not when his mind was engaged elsewhere, as it was now.

He suddenly regretted both the initial urge and the follow through, but it was rather too late now – Crowley would be here shortly, and a truly indecent amount of sushi had already been ordered, and they’d spent the afternoon bickering pleasantly over text messages about what movie to watch.

He plumped the pillows on the couch one more time, gave them that karate-chop bend that all the fashionable home décor magazines endorsed, then shook his head and smoothed them out again into a normal pillow shape. Décor magazines were ridiculous.

\--

Crowley paused for a moment outside the shop and self consciously straightened his hair. Then he scowled, gave himself a little shake, and went inside. There was nothing to be nervous about. It was just another night like any other.

“Angel?” he called, maneuvering the large tray of sushi he was carrying around the corner as he came into the back room. Aziraphale’s face dimpled with delight as soon as he saw what Crowley was carrying.

“Oh, my dear,” he said, “Is that from –”

“Of _course_ it is, angel,” Crowley said. “Would I bring you anything less than the best?”

“Oh, delightful!” Aziraphale said, leading the way upstairs and cradling the sushi like a baby. He waved Crowley into the sitting room as he headed into the kitchen to transfer the prized sushi from its plastic carrying case onto something more suited to its loveliness. He selected a rather pricy lacquer tray he’d picked up on one of his travels, and placed each piece carefully in a spiral design, then stood back to admire.

“Are you coming, angel?” Crowley said. “We’re just going to eat it; it doesn’t have to be a work of art.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes but did head out, where he discovered Crowley had conjured several bottles of excellent sake and tiny cups for them.

They settled in to watch their first choice, an old film about a young man who falls in love with an elderly woman. Crowley, as was his habit, started sprawled at one end of the couch, but before long he ended up snaking his way over towards Aziraphale, until various parts of his body were literally draped across the angel’s form. Aziraphale, for his part, offered no objections, laying a quiet, warm hand on the demon’s back as he became increasingly noodly. They both sank into the comfort of it, wordless.

“So,” Crowley said, when the movie ended, “do you want to hear the worst of this Valentines?”

Aziraphale grinned. “Oh yes,” he said, reaching for the delightfully watermelon-flavored sake and pouring them each more. “Do tell!”

Valentines Day, they had long ago agreed, was one of the best times to be utterly catty about their fellow inhabitants of planet Earth. Very rarely was utter hypocrisy and smugness on such blatant display. They’d made a game of it over the years.

“Well,” Crowley drawled. “I got a coffee this morning right next to the fancy florist and I counted fourteen – FOURTEEN – desperate men racing in between the hours of 8am and 9am to get last minute fancy bouquets because they’d obviously forgotten to do anything in advance.”

Aziraphale snorted. “Why is it the men and never the women who are out getting last minute flowers? Don’t the men deserve some flowers too?”

“I suppose the women are better at remembering in advance,” Crowley said with a shrug.

“That seems to track,” Aziraphale agreed.

“And, as I was putting in the sushi order this afternoon, I overheard the poor owner getting abused by several patrons who called desperate for a last-minute reservation. One of them even offered her a bribe!”

“To kick someone off the list in their favor?” Aziraphale said, sounding shocked.

“Yup,” Crowley said. “Made sure to send a little demonic energy down the line to that one. His phone is going to zap him every time he touches it for the next three months.”

“Well, you’ve certainly been busy!” Aziraphale said. “I, on the other hand, manned the shop all morning and had a fairly quiet day. I did, however, get treated to listening to one couple discussing the woman’s poor unmarried sister and how hard it must be to not be part of a couple. They seemed to believe there was something quite wrong with the unfortunate girl for not wanting to settle down.” 

Crowley scoffed. “As if no one could find anything meaningful to do with their life outside of a sexual relationship.”

“As if life is completely empty without someone to mingle your laundry with.”

Crowley took a deep swig of his sake and looked surprised to find the bottom of the cup. “People have friends! And families!”

“Indeed,” Aziraphale said, leaning over to top off his cup again from a bottle which somehow needed to be refilled. He concentrated for a moment and refilled it with one of the rarer sakes of the world and heated it up to the correct temperature before offering a generous pour. “As if the world is meaningless without rubbing your – your – your efforts together.”

Crowley coughed on his swallow. “Careful angel, this sake is way too expensive to waste going down my windpipe.”

Aziraphale pounded him on the back helpfully. “That reminds me,” he said. “I wanted to discuss something with you.”

Crowley eyed him warily. “I’m too deep in my sake for a serious conversation right now, angel.”

“No, no,” Aziraphale said, “it’s not serious. I just discovered something in my reading that I wanted to get your thoughts on.”

“Go on…” Crowley said.

“Well, it’s just that – did you know there is a name for people like us?”

Crowley blinked. “I think there are quite a few. Ethereal entities, celestial beings, protectors, avengers –”

“No,” Aziraphale said. “I mean – I mean, that is, people who lack romantic sensibilities.”

“I believe the word is _friends_ , angel.”

“My, aren’t you amusing,” Aziraphale said sourly. “Actually, the word is ‘ace’.”

“Ace,” Crowley said, running it through his mouth. “Sorry but, does this matter?”

“I like to be precise,” Aziraphale said.

“You’re just trying to figure out which part of the Dewey decimal system to file us under,” Crowley snarked, but without any real heat.

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. “Anyway, the point is – the point is –” he took another drink, rather a large one. “The point is – partnerships.”

“Partnerships,” Crowley repeated dumbly, feeling quite lost.

“Partnerships. Valentines day is all about partnerships, romantic or otherwise, and it occurred to me recently that you and I are as much a partner as any married spouses.”

“Partner in crime, maybe,” Crowley muttered.

“That too,” Aziraphale said agreeably. “I just wanted to say – why shouldn’t we celebrate? Just like anyone else.”

“If this is just an excuse to make me buy you chocolates –”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Crowley, you’re being quite impossible,” Aziraphale huffed.

Crowley paused for a moment. He had to admit, the angel had a point. He and Aziraphale shared not just a job assignment or a hometown but an entire planet, ethereal powers, and six thousand years of history. They were, in an unspoken way, absolutely committed to each other. He knew without a doubt that Aziraphale was there for him for whatever he needed, be it rescue, food delivery, emotional support, or occasionally a good telling off. He hadn’t doubted it in millennia. So… so what if the angel liked to label things? There were worse things than labels.

“You’re right, you’re as close to a partner as I’ll ever have,” Crowley said, then added hurriedly when Aziraphale’s face fell slightly. “Or want.” He raised a glass.

Aziraphale stared at him, unsure.

“To us,” he said, peering over the top of his glasses. “Happy Valentine’s Day, angel. Nice sharing a life with you.”

Aziraphale’s chin wobbled just the tiniest bit on its way to dimpling in delight. “To us,” he said, meeting the glass with his own. “May we have six thousand more.”

**Author's Note:**

> I am not ace myself, but I know and love people who very much are. If you are scrolling through ace/aro stories on here because you feel alone or are wondering if you're missing something there are tons of resources out there. This might be a nice place to start: 
> 
> <https://www.asexuality.org/>


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